


A Cure for Loneliness

by Morbid_Hatter



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Awkward Flirting, Courting Rituals, Flower Crowns, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Iorveth is Bad at Flirting, Language of Flowers, Light Angst, M/M, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Pre-Relationship, Vernon Roche Was a Cute Child, fight me, why do I do this to myself?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbid_Hatter/pseuds/Morbid_Hatter
Summary: The confrontation between Roche and Iorveth in the forest was not the first time they met. They first met thirty years before, just outside Vizima - not that either rememberedIt was a warm day and Vernon desperately wanted someone to play with. He wanted someone to be nice to him, maybe play pirates with him or teach him to make a daisy chain. Mama had told him to go out and play while she was working, told him not to come home until dusk. “Little boys should spend their days outside playing,” she told him while tweaking his nose. He wanted so badly to do what Mama said so she could be happy, she was rarely happy although she tried to hide it.
Relationships: Iorveth & Vernon Roche, Iorveth/Vernon Roche
Comments: 57
Kudos: 97





	1. Flower Crowns

Vernon scrubbed a small hand across his eyes and refused to look down at his knees to see how bad his fall had been. He scrambled to his feet and took off as fast as he could across the bridge, praying to Melitele that the other kids wouldn’t follow him. 

By the time he stopped running and the shouts of his pursuers had faded into nothingness, Vernon was across the lake and half-way around the walls of Old Vizima. He panted for breath and kicked angrily at the wall when he felt tears burn his eyes again. He was too old to cry. Only babies cried and he wasn’t a baby, no matter what Mama still called him. 

He climbed up into a tree not far from where he stopped - because he wanted to see if the kids who called him a ‘whoreson’ and pushed him into the dirt were coming, not because he was scared of the monsters in the swamp. He was being strategic - whatever that meant. 

Now that he was alone and hidden away in the tree, Vernon pushed his pants up his legs to get a look at his knees. They were scraped up, dirty, and bleeding. “Mama’s gonna be so mad at me,” he lamented. He bit his lip as he tried to brush bits of dirt and stone out of the scrapes but it stung and he was just so tired of hurting. Instead of making it hurt more, he kept his pants pushed up over his knees and let his legs hang over the heavy tree branch. 

It was a warm day and Vernon desperately wanted someone to play with. He wanted someone to be nice to him, maybe play pirates with him or teach him to make a daisy chain. Mama had told him to go out and play while she was working, told him not to come home until dusk. “Little boys should spend their days outside playing,” she told him while tweaking his nose. He wanted so badly to do what Mama said so she could be happy, she was rarely happy although she tried to hide it. 

He sighed and leaned against the tree trunk and tried not to feel too lonely. “Didn’t want to play with stupid Gareth and his stupid friends anyways,” he muttered darkly even as his lower lip trembled. 

“What did Gareth do to make him so stupid?” a voice called from below. 

Vernon jumped and had to wrap his arms around the trunk so he wouldn’t fall out of the tree. He hadn’t heard anyone coming. He squinted and looked down to see a man leaning up against the tree with his arms folded across his chest. 

“None of your business,” he groused, his tongue sticking out even though the man wasn’t looking at him. 

Quick as a flash the man jumped up and flipped himself up onto a branch just below where Vernon was sitting. He leaned against a smaller one at his back. Vernon was impressed. Grownups normally didn’t climb trees, and if they did they sure didn’t do it like that. 

“Does your mother know you’re outside the city, little dh’oine?”

“Dh’-what?” he asked, confused. He’d never heard that word before. It sounded like it was a different language. 

“Dh’oine. It means human,” the man explained. 

Vernon frowned and looked closer at the man. His face was half-covered with a red cloth that didn’t quite cover the bottom of the scar that cut through his cheek. It also didn’t hide his pointed ears or the inhumanly fine angles of his face ( _Pretty_ , a small voice in his head said). “You’re an elf.” 

The elf hummed and nodded. From all the stories he had heard, elves were blood-thirsty and would rather kill humans than look at them; but this one was sitting up in a tree with him and didn’t seem dangerous. “So, little dh’oine, does your mother know you’re outside the city?”

Grownups were all the same no matter what species they were, he decided with a frown. They all wanted you to answer them even if you didn’t feel like talking about it. “She told me to go play outside but -” he stopped and bit his lip, unsure if he wanted to keep speaking. “ - the other kids don’t like me. They don’t wanna play with me.” His lower lip wobbled again so he ducked his head so the elf didn’t see and think he was a baby. 

“Are they the reason you’re all scraped up?” 

Vernon nodded. “They pushed me down and called me names and chased me.” 

The elf nodded and the look on his face said that he understood. “You should go home, little dh’oine. It’s not safe for humans to be alone out here.” 

“Vernon. My name ‘s Vernon. And I  _ can’t _ . Mama said I had to play outside until sunset. She’s workin’ and I’m not allowed to be around when she’s workin’. Don’t make me go home yet! Mama’s already gonna be so mad at me because I tore up the knees in my pants,” Vernon said quickly, his breathing coming quicker because of the panic building up in his chest. 

The elf reached out and put a calming hand on Vernon’s shaking shoulder. “It’s okay, don’t cry Vernon. You don’t have to go home yet if it will make your Mama mad. We don’t want to do that.” 

Vernon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He regarded the elf with curiosity. Most grownups would just yell at him and make him cry harder, but the elf was trying to make him feel better. It was confusing. He heard all the scary stories the other kids told (hiding out of sight like usual, but close enough that he could hear so he could pretend he was included), and all the stories said how elves were too different and that was  _ bad _ . But - but that couldn’t be right if this one was trying to be nice to him while he was being a crybaby.

“How about this,” the elf continued after Vernon had gotten his breathing under control. “You play out here and I’ll keep an eye out for monsters and mean kids.” 

_ Oh, right _ , he thought with a pang of disappointment,  _ grownups don’t play with kids.  _ He stamped down his disappointment as best he could. He had begun to feel a bubble of hope that maybe he could have someone to play with. “That’s okay, mister. I’ll be careful. You don’t have to stick around.” 

“Iorveth. My name is Iorveth.” 

Vernon climbed down the tree. It was always so much harder to get down than it was to climb up. “Okay, mister Iorveth, you don’t have to stay,” he amended once he had both his feet on the ground. He waved at the elf watching him from where he was still sitting in the tree. “Bye. It was nice meeting you.” 

He didn’t get far before he heard a soft thump and quiet footsteps hurrying to catch up to him. He stopped and turned around, his arms crossed over his chest and an itchy feeling under his skin like when he got mad and he didn’t know why. “You don’t have to follow me. I’m not a baby!”

Iorveth smiled. “No, I know that. I also know that it can be awfully lonely to play by yourself. Did you have any plans?”

The itchy feeling faded and he dropped his arms to his sides. “You’re not gonna just pretend to wanna play and then call me ‘whoreson’ and push me in the dirt, are you? Cuz when people pretend to wanna play with me, it hurts so much.” 

Iorveth flinched and looked surprised. “That’s not a nice name. They don’t really call you that, do they?” Vernon nodded. “Well mean names can really hurt, but only if you let them. I didn’t have anyone to play with when I was young either. Elves don’t have children often so there weren’t many kids my age and the ones that were around thought that I was weird because I would rather play my flute than learn how to shoot a bow.” 

Vernon looked very pointedly at the top of the bow he could see over Iorveth’s shoulder and the quiver of arrows at his hip. “But you have a bow?”

Iorveth chuckled and ruffled Vernon’s fluffy hair, making it messier than it already was. “Yes I do, but that’s a sad story and I’d rather not be sad on such a nice day.” 

They walked in silence around the walls of Old Vizima until the tree they had been sitting in was visible again. Vernon noticed his companion would occasionally turn and look out into the forest or go tense like he’d seen something, but Vernon never saw anything. He wondered if elves could see and hear better than humans. He figured it would be rude to ask. He had lots of questions he’d like to ask, but he didn’t want to be a pest either. 

Vernon stopped suddenly when he caught sight of a group of wildflowers at the edge of the path they had been following. Iorveth stopped and reached for the hilt of a knife strapped to his chest. “What is it?” he asked while he looked around like he was looking for a monster to jump out at them. 

“Flowers! I wonder if Mama would like some flowers.” Iorveth relaxed and let out a deep breath after Vernon clarified the reason why he had stopped. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Iorveth huffed. “Didn’t scare me,” he denied.

Vernon ignored him, letting Iorveth think he believed him. He knew scared. But he also knew grownups, and grownups didn’t like kids to know they got scared too. Instead of arguing with Iorveth, he picked a handful of colorful flowers. He sighed and hung his head, sad again. He thought the flowers were really pretty and he wished again that someone would want to help him make a flower chain.

_ Well, if no one will teach me, I’ll figure it out myself _ , he thought, forcing away his sadness and replacing it with determination. Iorveth was right, it was too nice of a day to be sad. He took his handful of flowers and marched over to his tree and sat down on the ground in the shade to figure out how to make a flower chain. Maybe it would make Mama happy and she wouldn’t even get mad that she would have to mend his pants. 

Iorveth followed and sat a few feet away in the sun. Vernon watched him out of the corner of his eye as Iorveth laid down and stretched out like he was going to nap in the sun like the cat Vernon occasionally fed when he could spare a few mouthfuls of food. When it was obvious that the elf was content to lay down and do nothing, Vernon turned back to his task. 

He tried. He really did. But the stems were tricky and he kept breaking them before he could figure out how to twist them up like a chain link. “Stupid flowers,” he growled and threw the broken flowers away. He scrubbed his eyes with his knuckles and tried to wipe the tears out of his eyes before they could fall. He didn’t want to be mad because he couldn’t make something nice for Mama, but he had ruined all but three of the flowers he had collected and he hadn’t seen any others on their walk around Old Vizima.

Iorveth sat up and reached between them where Vernon had thrown the broken flowers. He picked them up and straightened the stems out. Vernon watched, fascinated, as Iorveth’s long fingers worked the stems and flowers into a complicated twist. He gasped and scrambled to get closer. “You fixed them!” he cried in surprise when he got close enough to examine the flowers. “Are you magic?”

Iorveth didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tucked the last of the damaged flowers into the tight weave of what was obviously a flower crown. “No, not really. Elves are just really in tune with nature. So that means I can do things like this. Here, give this to your Mama,” Iorveth said and set the flower crown on Vernon’s head where it promptly fell until it caught on his nose. 

Vernon laughed delighted and pushed it back up, tilting it so it would stay up until he could get it home. “That was amazing. Thanks so much. Too bad there aren’t any more flowers so you could teach me to do that. I mean, if you wanted to.” 

His elf friend laughed and stood up. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” 

Vernon frowned and sighed as he watched Iorveth dash away across the open field until he was out of sight. He hadn’t meant to be so much of a bother that Iorveth wanted to leave him. He wondered, not for the first time, what was wrong with him that no one except Mama wanted to be around him. It wasn’t because they were poor, everyone in Temple Quarter was poor. Part of him wondered if it was for whatever reason Mama didn’t talk about his father. Or maybe he was just bad? 

He crawled back to where he had been sitting so he could hide in the shade. He sulked and figured he could sit under the tree until it was late enough to go home.  _ It was nice not to be alone all day,  _ he thought with a small, sad smile. One day he figured he’d find a way to make friends. At least Iorveth wasn’t mean to him. That was new. That was progress. 

A gentle cascade of flowers falling over his head startled him out of a light doze. He sat upright and looked around to see where the flowers had come from. He gasped, surprised and elated that he hadn’t managed to actually drive Iorveth away, that the elf hadn’t lied about coming back. 

“I didn’t mean to be gone long enough for you to fall asleep, but I had to take care of something before I could come back,” Iorveth said, sitting down on the other side of the large pile of flowers and started to twist them around. “Come on, then. Grab a few flowers and I’ll walk you through it.” 

Vernon scrambled to do as he was told and watched Iorveth intently as he explained the steps and how not to break the stems. 

By the time the sun was low enough in the sky, Vernon had managed to make his own crown. It wasn’t as nice as the one’s Iorveth had made, it was a little bent up and lopsided, but he was excited nonetheless. “I should go,” he said with a small frown. He couldn’t remember the last time he got to have fun with someone that wasn’t Mama, and she was so busy trying to make sure he could eat that they didn’t get much time together. 

He stood up and adjusted Mama’s flower crown so it wouldn’t slip off his head. He took the crown he had made and put it on Iorveth’s head before he could think twice. “There,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “Now you can have something to remember me by.” He hugged Iorveth tight, avoiding the bow still slung over his back. 

As he backed away and turned to leave, he caught the stunned look on Iorveth’s face. “Bye!” 

“Va faill, little dh'oine,” he heard Iorveth reply but he was too excited to show Mama what he had learned to ponder what his new friend had said or to wonder why he had looked so stunned at being hugged. 

His good mood lasted all the way home. Mama was cooking something over the fire and didn’t seem any worse for wear today like she sometimes did after working all day. “Mama look what I got for you.” 

His heart hurt when he had to explain that he hadn’t stolen the crown. Did Mama think he was bad, too? He sat at the table and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying about Mama thinking the worst of him and how she wasn’t wearing the crown he had been so excited to give her. 

He only wanted her to be happy. Flowers made people happy. 

Once they were done eating, Vernon had nothing to distract him from voicing the question that had burned a hole in his heart. “Mama, did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to be bad. My new friend Iorveth made it for me to bring home for you. He taught me how to make them too so when I find more flowers I can make another.”

Mama froze like she had been turned to stone, a scared look on her face. “What’s your new friend’s name, baby?” she asked. 

“Iorveth. He was super nice and he taught me how to make flower crowns. I’m gonna try to find him tomorrow and see if he’ll teach me to make a chain next.” 

“Baby, you need to stay away from him. He’s dangerous,” Mama said, holding on tight to his shoulders and making him look at her like she did when she was being serious. 

“But -”

“No ‘buts’, baby. I know you don’t understand, but you have to promise me to stay away. You’re lucky to be alive, baby. Promise me you won’t go looking for him,” she demanded, the scared look still on her face.

He nodded. “I promise, Mama,” he said, feeling his heart break a little bit. He shuffled over to his cot and watched as Mama tossed the flower crown into the dying fire. He had to bite down on the side of his hand to muffle his sobs as he watched it burn. Vernon laid down quickly and covered his head with his blanket before Mama could turn and see him crying. 

Vernon lay awake most of that night, too upset to sleep. It wasn’t fair that he finally found a friend and he wasn’t allowed to see him again. Iorveth had been the nicest person he had met and he couldn’t understand what was so dangerous about him. He hoped it wasn’t anything to do with him being an elf - but he hadn’t told Mama Iorveth was an elf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....I maybe drew a little something to go along with this chapter. It needs touched up more and I'll attempt to do a digital version soon, but I think it turned out okay. 
> 
> https://useless-empty-brain.tumblr.com/post/642160327593689088/no-one-took-my-sketchbook-away-from-me-so-yall


	2. Lilacs and Forget-Me-Nots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost 30 years and nearly everything has changed, except for the important bits

Iorveth would never admit it out loud, but part of him had been impressed when he heard that the newly formed Temerian Special Forces completely wiped out an entire Scoia’tael unit - it was entirely out of respect for another commander who challenged him, saw openings and weaknesses and exploited them mercilessly.

And maybe his interest in the Blue Stripes was a little … intense. 

Obsessed, Cedric would have said. 

Iorveth was tired, he had been tired for longer than he could remember. There was always another threat to deal with, another war, another disaster, another tragedy he had to lead his people through. And yes, maybe he spent more time than was strictly necessary on provoking the Blue Stripes, but it gave him something to focus on instead of the steady pace towards the extinction of the Aen Seidhe. 

Their meeting was inevitable, Iorveth had been waiting for four years to meet the Temerian King’s personal attack dog. He had planned for any scenario he could imagine, he set traps, sent spies, but he hadn’t expected the Commander to waltz into his forest with a sorceress and a vatt’ghern. 

The Blue Stripes Commander had become something of a ghost story, an exaggerated tale of someone larger than life used to scare new recruits - similar to the stories he had heard about himself, he realized with slight amusement - and he had been only slightly disappointed to see a regular man standing close enough to touch while trading barbed insults with him. 

The real disappointment he felt was in himself. He had been handed every scrap of information about his unseen rival down to inconsequential information about his sleeping habits (it sounded too easy to suffocate him in his sleep, and Iorveth had thought about it), but he hadn’t been able to put all the pieces together until he was right there.

_ Scraped knees. Teary brown eyes. Flower crowns.  _

It came rushing back as soon as Iorveth saw him. It had only been one sunny afternoon almost thirty years ago; he had been alive for centuries, it would be impossible to remember an insignificant day. 

But it hadn’t been insignificant. 

He remembered the child he had found huddled up in a tree, dirty and bleeding, and trying desperately to hide his tears. The  _ little dh’oine _ who had been so obviously, agonizingly lonely that he had willingly spoken to an elf. Temerians, he knew, were especially xenophobic, but that little boy had eagerly watched him and asked questions and had voluntarily touched him -  _ hugged him _ . It had done more to chip away at the ice surrounding his heart than anything before or since. 

And to know the scourge of the Scoia’tael, the man responsible for the ‘pacification’ of the Mahakaman foothills was Vernon, his  _ little dh’oine _ , dug something sharp and painful between his ribs. 

Maybe things would have been different if he had tried a little harder to find the child when he didn’t see Vernon again the next day. He had been  _ sure _ the kid would seek him out again, especially if he was as lonely as he seemed. Iorveth allowed himself to think about the ‘what ifs’ now that he was alone again. He had his men dispatched where he needed them so he could sit alone in the sun and just  _ breathe _ . Absently, he started twisting flowers together, something that didn’t take a lot of brainpower, and gave his hands something to do. 

Little Vernon had been an adorable child. 

Iorveth almost crushed the delicate flowers in his hands when he thought about how well the child grew up. For a dh’oine, Vernon Roche had something distractingly attractive about him. Part of it was the attitude, part of it was the mind of a strategic genius, but most of it was the spark in his eyes that hadn’t been extinguished despite every obstacle that had been thrown his way. 

“Fuck,” he groaned and tugged at his ears, a nervous habit he hadn’t allowed himself to do in decades. “Fuck.” 

He was a Commander of the Scoia’tael. He was an Aen Seidhe. He  _ hated _ the humans that had spent so long pushing his kind to the edge of the world. He wasn’t allowed to think like that. He wouldn’t allow himself to think that. 

And yet…

And yet he couldn’t quite wipe the smile off his face. 

There was something intriguing and infuriating about Vernon Roche and it made Iorveth want to know more, and not just because he made it his job to know everything about the Blue Stripes. But he was damn good at his job. 

And he had never been the best at not allowing himself something after he realized he wanted it. 

When he tucked the last flower into the crown he found himself pleased with how it had turned out, even if the symbolism of the flowers would probably be lost on a human. It didn’t matter if Vernon Roche didn’t get it. If he was being completely honest with himself, he would rather it remain a mystery - there was too much to read into the delicate flowers he had woven together. White Lilacs for the youthful innocence Roche had when they first met; Purple Lilacs for his epiphany of his feelings; and Forget-Me-Nots for the memories they shared - however few there were.

No one had ever accused Iorveth of being subtle.

The intricate flower crown found a new home on Roche's desk. Iorveth watched from a safe distance as Roche found his gift and spun around like he was expecting Iorveth to be right behind him.  _ Close but not quite, dh’oine.  _ He felt a small thrill rush down his spine while he watched Roche examine the flowers with a focused frown, visible even from Iorveth’s hiding place.

Iorveth could almost hear the explicative from where he was hidden when Roche found the short note he left with his gift. It would do no good to let his rival get complacent even if Iorveth had no intention of killing him. 

_ Until next time, little dh’oine. - Iorveth _

\----

It had taken him an age to find the answers, but Vernon Roche was nothing if not determined. None of his Stripes would know, not that he’d ever ask them if they did - that way only led to madness. But until he managed to get his hands on a book about flowers, he had been obsessed. 

The librarian in Vergen had shadowed him while he referenced the sketch he drew of the flowers he had found on his desk months ago and tried to figure out Iorveth’s angle.  The noise he made was closer to a squeak than he was strictly comfortable with when he found his answer, but even the harsh glare the Dwarf hovering across the table could have stopped the sound. It also wasn’t enough to stop the rush of blood to his face that caused a blush to heat up his cheeks.

The Dwarf harrumphed at him and crossed his arms with another pointed look. “Are you done yet?” he asked. 

Childishly, Vernon wanted to stick his tongue out at the Dwarf and purposely take his time in doing more research than necessary, but he knew he was already pushing his luck. While Vergen welcomed all races to live in peace under Queen Saskia, Roche and those like him - soldiers and hunters of non-human threats - would never truly be welcomed in the city. It was fine, he knew they weren't going to stay in Vergen long before they were called away. He and his Stripes had only made it out of the clusterfuck of the last few months by the skin of their teeth - he wasn’t going to risk changing their luck just because he wanted to know what a few flowers meant. 

So instead of acting on his first instinct, or his second if he was being completely honest with himself, he took a mental deep breath and asked for help. “Am I reading this right?”

The Dwarf harrumphed again but got up and read over Roche’s shoulder. “Memories, youthful innocence, and first feelings of love or affection,” the Dwarf read off and nodded. 

Roche couldn’t help but laugh, half-hysterical at the notion that Iorveth could feel more than contempt for him. Regardless of their short history before Roche joined Foltest’s army, there was no way someone like Iorveth could possibly…

...no, not possible. Not at all possible. 

“So there’s no real way this arrangement would be random?” he asked sheepishly.

The Dwarf ran a hand over his impressive beard and hummed in thought. “Who gave them to you?” he asked after an age. 

Roche almost swallowed his tongue. “Uh, an elf,” he replied vaguely, once he had regained his ability to breathe. 

He didn’t like the judging look the Dwarf was giving him, but if it got him answers he wouldn’t comment. “Well, unless yer elf has been knocked around the head a few too many times, I don’t think the arrangement is random. Why?” 

“No reason,” Roche answered dumbly and cringed at how obvious his lie was. Why it mattered to Roche that this random librarian believed him when he’d more than likely never see him again, was a mystery. “I mean, he’s obviously suffering some kind of brain damage if he’s sending  _ me _ these flowers.”

The Dwarf shrugged and muttered, “Your words, not mine” under his breath before he seemed to decide that Roche was trustworthy enough to be left alone with a book. 

He was grateful to be left alone as he could still feel the hot burn of the blush on his cheeks and the tops of his ears. He would rather not have an audience while he had a small breakdown. 

This was a trick, some new tactic for Iorveth to worm his way into Roche’s head. That was all it was, just a trick. There was no way the wily Scoia’tael commander would ever deign himself to feel any positive emotion for a human, especially one like Roche. 

It didn't matter that one of Roche’s only good childhood memories centered around the elf, or that one of his first observations had been how pretty he thought Iorveth was - he had been a child. A child who had somehow survived an extended encounter with an infamous Scoia’tael. 

None of it mattered, he reasoned after he spent another hour flipping through pages, making notes, and learning more about the language of flowers than he would have ever thought necessary. None of it mattered because there was no way the arrangement was more than the elf teasing him for his actions as a child.

_ But just in case _ .

He snatched up the parchment he had been taking notes on and tucked it into his gambeson. 

If Iorveth was messing with him, two could play that game.

But if he was serious...well, it couldn't hurt to have a response ready. All he had to do was find out how to get close enough to Iorveth to leave his answering arrangement. 

Simple. Easy. Piece of cake.

Except, where the fuck was he supposed to find the flowers he needed or their recipient? 

  
  



	3. Two Half-Drown Squirrels Run Into a Tavern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the start of a bad joke that somehow gets better and worse.

The feeling of eyes on his back was the only warning Iorveth got before his solitude was interrupted by Rainin, his de facto spy. He sighed and shifted around to make room on the flat outcropping of stone he was perched on. 

They were quiet, both of them sitting together and watching the busy city gate below. Vergen was exactly what Iorveth hoped it would be and nothing like he expected. His archers along with the Blue Stripes had been able to help turn the tide of the siege of the Dwarven city, but Iorveth could still see the wounds of the battle against the Kaedweni forces gouged into the rock face. 

"It could have been so much worse," Rainin said after the silence stretched on too far for the normally talkative elf to stand. "You were right to side with Saskia, no matter what some of the others say."

"Thank you, Rainin." He sighed heavily and stretched out to enjoy the cool air. "I've been fighting for so long, I don't know if I can settle in a place like this." 

Rainin hummed and copied Iorveth’s position. "That's not what's really bothering you, is it? Not everything, at least."

Iorveth often wondered how Rainin, who spent so much time  _ talking _ could also be so observant. But that's why he accepted any information Ranin could pass along. "Nothing is bothering me, I'm just - I did something a few months ago, and I can’t help think it was incredibly stupid."

Rainin snorted inelegantly. "Is this about the really obvious flower crown you left with the Blue Stripes commander?"

He sputtered and felt his ears burn. "It wasn’t  _ that _ obvious," he argued pathetically. It  _ had _ been really obvious and he wouldn't have ever tried something like that with anyone who would've understood the meaning. 

"Yeah, it was."

"Okay, maybe it was. But it's not like he would figure it out. He looked more angry than anything else when he found it." Even though Rainin was on his blind side, Iorveth could feel the judgemental look being burned into the side of his face. 

"I think he was angry that you managed to sneak by his entire unit and break into his office without being seen," Ranin argued with a smug lilt that Iorveth didn’t appreciate even though he was sure he deserved it. "But if you're so sure he isn't interested, then you won't care about where I saw him today."

He was being baited, he knew this, but it didn't stop him from sitting up quickly and turning to face Rainin. They were still stretched out, eyes closed and a small knowing smile curling the corner of their full lips up. "Where did you see him?" He asked, voice shrill. Normally he would have attempted to keep his aloof facade, but Rainin had always been able to see through it, and he was too nervous (excited) to keep up any false pretense. 

"That's what I thought," Rainin said with a chuckle belying the truly alarming amount of glee Iorveth could see on their face. "Your human -"

"Not my human -"

" _ Your human _ ," Ranin repeated as if Iorveth hadn't interrupted, "had his nose buried in  _ Flora Significa  _ and  _ Courting Rituals of the Aen Seidhe  _ for hours before I saw him harassing an herbalist."

Iorveth felt his stomach swoop and his heart trip over itself. It was dizzying and left him feeling off-balance. "Is that right?" He managed to choke out around his spiraling thoughts.

Why would Roche want to know? What's going to happen now? What would Roche do with what he learned? 

"You’re panicking very obviously and for no reason," Rainin said gently, voice low and soothing. "I'll keep an eye out for you, okay? You don't have to do anything that you don't want to. Even though you started this."

Iorveth pouted. "Did I ever tell you about the first time I met him?" When Rainin gestured for him to go on, Iorveth took a deep breath and recounted all he could of the sunny afternoon outside Old Vizima where he taught a lonely child to make a flower crown for his mother so she would have something to smile about. 

The noise Ranin let out was so high-pitched Iorveth was honestly surprised he could hear it. "So you just decided to temporarily adopt this child so he wouldn’t be lonely?"

Iorveth groaned and questioned his life choices. "Please don’t say it like that, it makes me sound like a dirty old man."

Rainin laughed brightly at his discomfort. He really didn't understand why he allowed Rainin to stay with his unit - soon all of his Scoia’tael would follow Rainin's example and be up in his business and judging him. 

"You have a talent for knowing what people need, Iorveth," they said seriously, a faraway look on their face like old memories were resurfacing. 

Iorveth allowed them to remember for a moment longer before he wrapped his fingers around Rainin's slim wrists and gave them something to ground them in the here and now. "You’re safe now, _ weddin _ . You'll never have to go back there. And now that we've done what we set out to do, you can put down some roots in Vergen if you want."

Rainin gave him an intense look and suddenly Iorveth found himself with a quietly crying spy in his lap. He hugged Rainin tight against his chest, allowing himself to relax in the closeness of someone who had never been afraid of him or shown him open hostility. "So, since most of us seem to be content to stay here and provide ranged units for Saskia, could I perhaps borrow your skills for purely selfish reasons?" 

Rainin laughed, small and watery but a laugh nonetheless, and lifted their head to look at Iorveth. He tried to look as pleading as possible, knowing it would make Rainin feel better and would only cost him a sliver of his remaining dignity. "Are you asking me to stalk Roche?"

"I'm not  _ not  _ asking you to. But if you happen to be around him on occasion, I'd appreciate the update." Iorveth rested his forehead against Rainin's in a show of comfort and friendship. He may have saved Rainin from captivity but Rainin saved him in return, literally and metaphorically. 

"I'll help you, but it's not  _ entirely  _ altruistic."

Iorveth laughed. "So we're both a disgrace to our race and found ourselves with feelings for humans? Which one is it?"

Rainin muttered a name too quietly for Iorveth to pick up. He prodded Rainin in the ribs and tried to look as menacing as possible (normally an easy feat but he was too relaxed to pull it off). "Ves. Her handling of those knives is like a recurring sexual awakening."

Iorveth shrugged. While he could see the appeal, she was a little too intimidating for him. He bore more scars from Ves and her knives than he would care to count. “The Commander in me cringes and wants to tell her to keep her fucking armor closed, that it’s there to protect your vulnerable bits. But I quite enjoy my vulnerable bits where they are so I’m going to keep my mouth shut.”

“You’ve gotten prudish in your old age,” Rainin teased and crawled out of Iorveth’s lap but stayed close.

Iorveth hummed and nodded in agreement. “This old man is going to take an old man nap. You can stay or you can go, but if you stay you have to keep quiet. I may be old, but my hearing is still flawless and if I can hear your ramblings clear across camp I’ll definitely hear you if you’re right next to me,” Iorveth teased with a gentle smile before he relaxed and laid back down, his head pillowed on his forearms and his bandana pulled down to shield his eye from the bright sunlight. 

Iorveth wasn’t sure how long he had slept before a thundering crash seemed to shake the very mountain. His first thought was  _ rockslide _ before he was proven wrong and the skies opened. “Fuck,” he sputtered. 

Next to him Rainin laughed and jumped up to spin in tight circles with their head tilted back, enjoying the heavy downpour. 

Once Iorveth managed to convince Rainin to leave, they climbed down to the ground. It would be too far to get back to the temporary camp his Scoia’tael had set up just outside the city gates (preferring the forest over rock) so Iorveth made a split-second decision and grabbed Rainin’s wrist and took off into the city. 

They raced along the streets, busier than normal as the constant stream of refugees had also been caught in the surprise downpour. “Where are we going?” Rainin asked.

“I want to dry off and have a fucking drink. We’re going to The Cauldron,” he answered and slowed his pace the closer to the center of the city they got. It wouldn’t do the Scoia’tael any good for him to be seen dashing through the city like a madman. 

The Cauldron was crowded but still had enough room for the duo to move around and order drinks. Most of the patrons were Dwarves but there were clusters of humans and a small handful of elves amongst them, Iorveth noticed, always wary of his surroundings. 

“Well, well. What do we have here? Gentlemen and Ves, it seems we are privileged to see the rare sight of two half-drown squirrels.” 

Vernon Roche. Vernon Roche with his entire posse. Could his life get any worse? Iorveth took a deep breath, set his tankard down on the table he and Rainin had claimed, and turned to launch himself at Roche. Just because Roche had a jawline Iorveth wanted to  _ lick _ didn’t mean he was going to let Roche get away with taunts against any of his Scoia’tael. If it had just been him, he would’ve probably let the taunt go after some kind of comeback; but since it wasn’t, he was going to give the obnoxiously attractive dh’oine a good knock over the head. 

He didn’t make it more than bending his knees slightly into a crouch before a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. Despite their slight frame, Rainin was deceptively strong - before he could blink he was pushed bodily into a seat. 

“People will think you’re in charge, Rainin,” Iorveth complained and turned to face Roche - if he couldn’t hit him, he could still give him a verbal beatdown. The tavern had gone oddly silent and the Innkeeper looked like he was seconds away from tossing them all out. So instead of doing what he  _ so wanted to do _ , Iorveth grumbled and distracted himself with the surprisingly sweet strawberry flavored liquor. It soothed his sweet-tooth if nothing else. 

“Oh, I stand corrected. It’s a neutered half-drowned squirrel,” Roche taunted, his rumbling voice much closer than it had been before. “I didn’t know you were that easy to take down.”

At the same time Rainin muttered “give me strength” to the ceiling, Iorveth slammed his tankard down again. 

“That’s it!” he growled out through clenched teeth. “I didn’t know you were so eager for me to best you again, Vernon.” 

Around them, the tavern came back to life again. Rainin buried their head against their forearms; one of Roche’s Stripes started calling for bets; and the Innkeeper rounded the bar. “I’m not losing my Scoia’tael access to the only tavern in Vergen, so we’ll settle this like at least one of us is civilized.” 

He ignored the buzz of something alarmingly like affection warming his chest when Roche started rolling up his sleeves as Iorveth went to do the same. 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Squirrel? I could probably snap you in half. You’re half my size,” Roche taunted and sat across the table from Iorveth, his elbow resting on the scarred table-top, his fingers flexing and knuckles popping. 

Iorveth couldn’t resist the derisive laugh if he tried. “You may be bulkier than me  _ little dh’oine _ , but I have to stoop to let you make eye contact with me. Even with your stupid hat you’re shorter than me.” 

Roche’s eyebrow rose at the blatant reference to their first meeting and the gift Iorveth left in his office months before. “Show me what you’ve got then, Squirrel.” 

Iorveth ignored the sparks he could feel racing along his fingers from where they were touching. He knew a simple touch shouldn’t do that, so he decided to pretend it wasn’t happening until he could have a meltdown about it later. 

Right before the biggest of Roche’s comrades, Thirteen if he wasn't mistaken, started a countdown, Iorveth saw Rainin slip away and stand next to the Stripes, a few Orens exchanging hands. Part of him wanted to say something about a safe bet, but he let it go so he could place all his focus on Roche.  _ Such a hardship _ , he thought to himself with a feral smile that was quickly matched on Roche’s ruggedly handsome face. 

Iorveth was pleasantly surprised by the display of strength. It wasn’t enough to beat him, but he allowed the match to go on long enough to let himself watch the flex of muscles in Roche’s arm. It was a little distracting and a little bit of a turn-on if he was being honest with himself. But he wasn't about to let Roche win just because he was more attractive than usual while doing something physical. 

After a brief back and forth, he didn't want to totally humiliate his human after all, Iorveth flexed once and forced Roche’s arm down to the tabletop. The thump of Roche’s knuckles was oddly satisfying. "Better luck next time,  _ little dh’oine. _ "

The large number of Orens that Rainin shoved into several pockets was a little insulting but he hadn’t honestly expected any of the Stripes to bet against their commander. But Rainin was now noticeably richer so it wasn't a total loss. 

Iorveth expected Roche to get up and rejoin his Stripes once their impromptu arm wrestling match was over, but he stayed sitting and signaled for his commandos to push their tables together. He felt a bit outnumbered but he found he didn't mind as much as he probably should.

A deck of cards and a handful of mismatched dice appeared on the table. Rainin cackled with glee and slipped between Ves and the one who was responsible for collecting the coins for their bet. "Don't lose all the money you just won,  _ weddin _ ," he warned with a grin. 

It was nice to sit and drink across from Roche now that they weren't insulting each other. He wanted to mention how he broke into Roche’s office without any of the Stripes knowing, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be appreciated. While he trusted Rainin’s report, it didn’t mean Roche was actually interested or returned his feelings - he was probably just trying to figure out what Iorveth left on his desk.  _ Probably thought I was trying to poison him or something ridiculous. _ “You know, you’re not so bad when you keep your mouth shut,” Iorveth commented over the rim of his tankard. 

Roche smiled, a slow and dangerous smile. Iorveth was immediately on edge. 

“But if my mouth is shut, I can’t very well employ my best skill set, can I?” 

Iorveth felt his jaw drop and he knew he was gaping like a very unattractive fish, but he couldn’t stop. “D-did you just?” Iorveth sputtered, absolutely baffled about the very strange and highly suggestive comment. 

One of the Stripes laughed and nudged Roche with his elbow like they were all in on some joke that he couldn’t manage to wrap his head around. Rainin, bless their perfect timing, chose that moment to rescue Iorveth from himself and the awkward situation he walked right into. “Come on, boss. Let’s get going before I take more of Fenn’s money and he starts crying.”

The outraged “hey” was drowned out by raucous laughter from the rest of the Stripes. Iorveth could do nothing but shake his head and toss a sloppy salute towards Roche as he stood to follow Rainin. 

Before they got more than a few steps, Rainin turned and began walking backwards. “ _ You two have the strangest notions of foreplay _ ,” Raining teased with a bright and wicked smile. 

Even though Rainin spoke in Elder and Iorveth knew none of the Stripes would know what they said, a Dwarf at the table next to them spat out their drink with a laugh at the same time Iorveth choked on his tongue and felt the tips of his ears burn bright red. “You can’t just say things like that!” Iorveth hissed after his choking fit had passed. 

“What did you say to make him turn that red? I need to expand my arsenal especially since I was just thoroughly trounced by a soggy squirrel,” Roche asked Rainin. 

Iorveth felt his stomach drop somewhere near his feet when Rainin looked ready to reply. “ _ If you say anything, you won’t be able to flirt with Ves because you’ll be dead, _ ” he threatened, in Elder because he was mean but not  _ that _ mean. 

Rainin was still smiling, like his threat went totally ignored. “It’s an inside joke,  _ dh’oine _ , not unlike your supposed excellent oral skills.” With that final parting remark, Rainin all but skipped out of the tavern leaving Iorveth alone with Roche and the Stripes. 

“That is one little spitfire you’ve got there, Squirrel,” Roche said after Rainin left them. Iorveth could almost see the awe on his face even though his back was still to Roche. 

“Yeah,” he agreed absently. “Lucky for you, they’re not interested in you. If you think the insults are good, you haven’t seen anything yet. Rainin can flirt like no one I’ve ever seen.” 

“At least Rainin flirts with words and not flowers,” Roche said, just loud enough for Iorveth to hear but not loud enough for the Stripes to hear. 

Iorveth bit his tongue to hold back the noise threatening to steal the rest of his dignity. Instead he stalked out the door to follow Rainin before they got into more trouble. 

It wasn’t a retreat, it was a tactical advancement in another direction to regroup for the next confrontation - no matter what Rainin said while they walked back to the Scoia’tael encampment in the forest outside Vergen. “It's a good thing Roche already wants to fuck you, boss. You suck at flirting,” Rainin teased before they got too close to their comrades. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered while he tugged the end of his bandana lower over the right side of his face. “I never used to be bad at flirting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed Rainin. They’re my original character that popped in my head around the time this "one-shot" decided that it wasn’t going to stay that way.


	4. Daffodils For My Darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regard and Uneaquled Love - maybe it's too soon, but Rainin has never been very patient.

Ves never thought she would find herself in a position to work with someone outside her team to get Roche together with his elf. But that was before she saw the stupid look on both their faces. Roche looked like a smitten moron and Iorveth hadn't looked any better. 

Now she was foraging around the woods with the strangest elf she had ever met. Not that she had bothered to actually  _ meet _ elves before Vergen. 

"Why are we doing this again?" She asked Rainin who was standing on her shoulders so they could reach the rock ledge too high for either of them to reach.

"Hold your beautiful self still," Rainin called. 

Soon Ves heard a triumphant 'ha' and several small rocks rained down on her head. She brushed the rocks out of her hair and huffed up at Rainin who was leaning over the ledge, their arms outstretched. "Need a hand?" Rainin asked, grinning brightly. 

Ves eyed them critically. She knew elves were deceptively strong, and she had seen Rainin wrestle Iorveth away from a potential fistfight, but she felt a sense of trepidation as she jumped to grab onto Rainin's hands. "If you drop me, they'll never be able to find your body," Ves threatened. Rainin just laughed and pulled Ves up easily. 

_ Strangest elf ever _ .

Ves followed Rainin as they nearly skipped along the wide ledge until they were in the middle of a large cluster of white flowers. 

She stopped short, momentarily dumbstruck by the sight. She had never seen the sheer level of honest joy on someone's face before. Rainin danced in place, careful not to crush any flowers, and brought two gleaming knives from some hidden place.  _ Oh, shit _ , she thought to herself, a swooping feeling in her gut. The swoop intensified when Rainin flipped one of the knives around and held it out hilt first in her direction. 

"While I definitely enjoy the view, get your beautiful self over here and help me cut these," Rainin said with a flirty smile.

She ignored the sparks that danced along her fingertips and focused on cutting the stems the same way Rainin did, at an angle instead of straight across. "This is a nice knife, where did you get it?" 

It wasn’t what she wanted to say, but it was the only thing she was comfortable saying. It  _ was _ a nice knife, small and well-balanced with a wickedly sharp edge. 

"Iorveth gave them to me when he realized I was a huge disappointment with a bow. He did everything he could to make me feel better, he said 'a little spy like you needs something they can hide and you can't hide a bow,'" they said, voice pitched remarkably close to the Scoia’tael leader's voice. 

"You two are close." It wasn’t a question but Rainin nodded in agreement regardless. "How do you feel about him courting a human?"

Rainin smiled, but this one wasn't bright like usual, but smaller and softer. "He pretends that nothings wrong, but he's been alone for so long. Longer than I've known him. And if Roche can change that even for a moment, I'll do anything to help." 

The conviction to help was something Ves felt too, woven deep in her soul. It wasn’t something she felt for just anyone, but Ves figured Rainin wasn’t like that either - it was something for those closest, those they both considered family. 

"Yeah, I understand that," she said to the flowers at her waist, rather than to her companion. The suddenly somber atmosphere weighed heavily on her shoulders and she couldn't stand to see the small frown on Rainin’s face. "So, I'm terribly ignorant about these kinds of things, but why the Daisies?"

Rainin accepted the change of subject eagerly. "It’s terribly cliche, I'm afraid. They mean innocence and hope. That's why they're so popular with Aen Seidhe children." 

Ves could see the way Rainin melted while they explained the flower. "Is this enough?" She asked, gesturing between the large satchel they had filled with flowers. 

"What? Sick of me already?" Rainin teased with a wink. "I don't really know what he's planning, he isn't terribly forthcoming with his feelings. However, I've managed to figure out he's either planning another crown or a whole chain. He was muttering to himself about something being 'big enough to hide his stupid hat' which could mean a variety of things, and will probably need all the flowers we can carry. Melitele knows he needs all the help he can get."

"Roche is the same way. I think he almost made the herbalist cry when he was trying to find a good reply," Ves said with a small shrug. "It’s a good thing they have us, huh? You with your sneaking ability and knowledge of flowers, and me as a pair of shoulders to stand on and cut things how you tell me to."

"And to be incredibly attractive while wielding a sharp blade," Rainin added, almost as an afterthought. 

Ves frowned. Rainin had been flirting, or at least flirty the entire time they've known each other. Part of her was sure it was just part of the elf’s personality, part of her was sure Rainin meant it, and the loudest part of her wasn't sure what to do with the flirtation regardless of whether or not it was genuine. 

"I really don't understand courting with flowers," Rainin said after they collected as many flowers as the two of them could. "I mean, I  _ understand  _ it. But I don't see the point. Why would someone use flowers when they're just going to die? Unless they're not real, that is. Like those gemstone flowers that Dwarven craftsman in Vergen makes, or a carving of a flower, or a painting, etching, whatever. But I would rather give my intended something that represents them or the two of us. Something special and unique. Something that isn't going to fade away and die after a few days."

Ves followed Rainin quietly, listening to the elf speak. She was surprised that someone who was supposedly a spy could talk so much. 

It wasn’t until they separated, going back to their own encampments, that Ves realized Rainin hadn't asked for the knife back and it was still tucked into her belt.

She ducked her head to avoid the questions the guys would no doubt drill her with. She had enjoyed her time with Rainin and she wanted to keep it to herself. The Stripes wouldn't do it on purpose but they'd find a way to bring her buoyant mood down.

\----

The next morning, not long after they broke up after eating breakfast, Ves heard Roche yell "How does he keep doing this?" from across the camp.

She turned away from her tent where she had been heading, figuring she could spend the morning searching for the Scoia’tael camp so she could return Rainin's knife, and hurried over to Roche’s tent.

"Wow, bossman," she said around a laugh. "Those will go wonderfully with your complexion and permanent scowl." When he just scowled more, Ves socked him on the arm. "Seriously, Roche, let yourself have this, okay? If I'm wrong, you can put me on latrine duty until the next Conjunction of the Spheres."

He turned to her, eyes wide and uncertain like she had never seen them before. "I'm no good at this shit, Ves. What happens when I fuck it all up?"

_ When.  _ Not if.  _ When _ . 

The question broke her heart. In the many years she had known Roche, she had never seen him look as uncertain as he did now. Every time they went up against the Scoia’tael Roche knew just what to do. This was the man she would confidently follow to the ends of the earth. 

"I'm only going to say this once and if you tell anyone I'll deny it. But Roche, there's nothing to worry about. If there's anyone who has a chance to woo that squirrel, it's you," she said with as much conviction as she could muster. It was true, but making Roche believe it may take more work than she was expecting. 

"Thank you, Ves. I know it's silly and I'm being stupid, but thank you for humoring me." Roche turned back towards the daisy chain and matching crown with a bewildered smile. 

"They mean innocence and hope," she told him before she left. 

_ Now if I were a Squirrel spy, where would I be?  _ she asked herself. One of them, more than likely Roche’s grumpy elf, had just been in the camp. She circled around the camp's perimeter until she found the ghost of a footprint in the soil - almost like it had been done on purpose. "I'm probably not the Temerian soldier you were hoping was going to follow you, but I wouldn't mind an audience with King Squirrel," she said to the trees, positive Iorveth was still there. 

Her assumption proved correct after she had gotten out of sight of their camp. She had to force herself not to act on instinct and throw a knife at him - she had asked him to appear, after all. 

He stood in front of her, tall and imposing even without his mismatched armor. He was dressed casually and Ves didn't know how she felt about that - it was obvious that he was more than confident that he wouldn't be caught sneaking into their camp (which, yes, he had managed to do so at least twice). "I still have Rainin's knife and I wanted to know how to get it back to them," she said, cutting to the chase. 

Iorveth raised an eyebrow. Ves could see the moment he found the knife she had strapped against her thigh. "Well, that's something I wasn't expecting. How did you come about possessing one of Rainin's knives?"

Ves scowled. "I'm not Roche. You can't get information out of me just because you asked."

"How about a  _ quid pro quo  _ then? You tell me why you're seeking out someone who is very important to me, and then I'll tell you where Rainin likes to spend time," he countered with a small glare. 

Ves copied his stance, her arms crossed over her chest and her feet placed just right so she could move easily if Iorveth decided to attack. They stood silently, at an impasse until she sighed and nodded. "Rainin cornered me the day before and somehow talked me into helping find daisies for you. I didn’t even think to give back their knife, and I know I'd want it back if it were mine."

Iorveth watched her, eye shrewd and judging. It was like he was searching her very soul and she fought the urge to shift uncomfortably. Why Roche enjoyed the intense attention, she would never know. "Now, I would rather die than tell you anything that could hurt one of my own, but I have a feeling…" Iorveth stopped and took a step to the side just moments before something landed right where he had been standing. "I have a feeling," he repeated and shifted his impressive glare up at the treetops, "that Rainin doesn’t need to be tracked down and they’re not nearly as stealthy as they like to think." He knelt to pick up whatever had been thrown at him but didn't manage to pick it up before Rainin jumped down out of a tree and landed neatly in between them. 

"That is  _ not _ for you, boss. I adore you, but more like you’re my weird older brother," Rainin said before Ves found herself accosted by a blinding smile and an intricately carved blade shaped like a flower. "It’s for you. I thought it was pretty, but only because watching you throw knives is probably the hottest thing I've ever witnessed," they said with a wink before Ves and Iorveth were alone again. 

(She only noticed later that she was still in possession of Rainin’s knife and that she had failed to return it, too stunned by the strange elf to do more than gape.)

Ves smiled at the delicate blade which was shaped to look like a daffodil and the hilt looked like a stem and fit perfectly in her hand. 

Iorveth huffed out a laugh. "And people have the nerve to say  _ I'm _ obvious," he said, still chuckling as he turned to disappear into the forest. "Tell your commander I'm waiting for his reply." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...um...hi, not yet dead
> 
> My brain decided that it didn't want me to write - I had such a hard time getting this right. I'm still not completely pleased with it, but I shall endeavor to do better in the future. Have some less awkward flirting with Rainin and Ves as they attempt to help their totally useless commanders and friends. 
> 
> I also have the next chapter mostly done (okay, it's done but I'm also not quite 100% okay with it so we may be doing some editing tomorrow).


	5. Morning Glories and Blue Salvia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roche reveals his worries and decides to listen to Ves and let himself have this - so he decides to go with his response and wait to see what happens.

Their last encounter had left Roche feeling off-balance, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling. It reminded him of the rush he would get before a battle mixed with the pleasant warmth that he associated with a quiet night with his team. 

It took an embarrassingly long time to realize that it wasn’t the first time he felt this particular mix of emotions, and even longer to figure out that it was because of Iorveth. He was most embarrassed about his Stripes figuring it out before he had. 

His Stripes were fantastic soldiers, a wonderful team, and his  _ family _ , but they weren’t generally known for their smarts outside of fighting. So when Shorty turned to him once they were back in their encampment after spending the evening in The Cauldron and smiled at Roche like the cat who got the canary, Roche knew he was in trouble. 

"So boss, how long have you been fucking the elf?" Shorty asked, his wicked smile obvious in his voice. 

The rest of the Stripes joined in on the teasing - even Ves, his usual port in a storm, looked at him like Yule had come early. "I'm not ploughing the fucking elf," he grumbled with arms crossed and cheeks flushed red.

"But you want to. I mean, you basically offered to suck his cock at the table," Ves added helpfully before she decided to actually be helpful and shooed the Stripes away. 

Once they were alone, Roche sat down heavily and looked up at Ves imploringly. "I have no idea what I'm supposed to do about any of this," he complained to his lieutenant. She may harass him and judge him for his poor taste, but she was his second for a reason - he trusted her with his life. "After Flotsam, I -" he stopped, unable to find the words to describe the wild feelings seeing the flower crown had awoken in him. 

He had forgotten about Iorveth. It had been almost thirty years and he had been a child, he was  _ allowed _ to forget about someone he had met once. But once he saw the flowers braided together into a crown, the entire day came rushing back in a tidal wave.

It was difficult to associate the radical difference between his childhood memory of the first person other than his mother to show him an ounce of kindness with the Scoia’tael rebel responsible for so much destruction and death. The dichotomy was driving him crazy. 

"In Flotsam, before we left, I had a run-in with Iorveth. I - he disarmed me, had me at his mercy, and he let me go," he confessed to the ground between his boots. "And then he left this memento in my office."

Ves hummed and copied his posture, nudging his shoulder with hers. "Is it the parchment you keep in your armor?"

Roche groaned. "Yeah. Well, sort of. He left this flower crown and I made a sketch of it because I wanted to know what it meant."

He knew Ves put two and two together. "So what did you find out during your search through the library?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Flowers are confusing. Did you know they mean different things? And the same flower can have several meanings. It's a ploughing language, Ves. And I feel like I only know a few words, like I'm missing the nuances or something." He knocked his chaperon to the ground and dug his fingers into his hair. "But the worst part is that part of me wants it to mean something."

He didn’t say that he was silently panicking about the response he had planned, or how he wanted to know what it felt like to have that thousand-yard stare trained on him outside of a fight. He didn’t want to say it aloud, something like fear gnawing at his chest. Fear that he was walking into a trap, fear that he was dishonoring Foltest’s memory, fear that his feelings would harm his relationship with the Stripes.

Ves picked up on it anyway. "I would normally be the first to tell you that you're being an idiot. But it's different now, isn't it?

"Before all this, before we fought alongside them to protect Vergen and Saskia, I would've thought you had lost your mind, that Iorveth and his Scoia’tael were our enemy," she paused, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. "The Blue Stripes were created to stop the Scoia’tael, to neutralize the threat they posed against humanity, but this place promises to give everyone a place to live in equality. Doesn't that mean they're not a threat? We sat at the same table as two of our old enemies and nothing happened.

"Why can't you just let yourself have this? We'll have your back if he’s planning something, but I don't think he is." Ves nudged him again until he looked at her. "Besides boss, I thought he was going to swallow his tongue when you not-so-subtly offered to suck his cock in the middle of The Cauldron."

Roche groaned again. "I don't know why I said that. I just - he bested me in that silly arm wrestling match and I couldn’t let him get the last word," he confessed, his face hot with a flush of embarrassment. It had given him a rush, to blatantly offer to get on his knees for the elf. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel like he had gone too far.

"So what did you have in mind? If you're going to pursue this, I know you've got a plan." Ves knew him so well.

Roche pulled out the parchment and handed it over.

" _ Morning Glory - affection. Blue Salvia - I think of you. _ Wow, you are  _ not _ subtle." She looked over the rest of the parchment where Roche had sketched the flowers and scratched notes from the books he had read over in the library. "But neither is he, I guess. Why'd he use  _ memory _ ?"

He scratched his hand over the shorn sides of his head in a nervous gesture. "Well, it turns out we had met beforehand. I was a kid, but he uh - I was really lonely as a kid and he - its stupid and I forgot about it until he left the flower crown."

"Doesn't sound stupid," Ves countered quietly before she clapped a hand on his shoulder and stood. "Don't brood all night, boss."

Roche watched her make her way across the encampment until she disappeared into her tent. He turned his attention to the ground at his feet until he felt the combined weight of alcohol and exhaustion draw him closer to sleep. Rather than fall asleep near the fire and risk falling in, he dragged himself to his cot and fell down face first, asleep before his head hit his pillow. 

\----

Roche woke with a sense of determination. He marched through the market to the little flower stall he had found after his hunt in the library. 

The red-headed elf seemed to remember him. Her eyes widened and she took a subtle step back to put space between them. He grimaced and apologized. "I know I'm a little intense -"

The elf seemed to have recovered a little. She laughed and muttered " _ a little? _ " under her breath but she plastered on a small smile that only belied her discomfort the smallest amount. 

"Okay, I can be very intense," he corrected. "But I really need your help. I'm so out of my depth here and the only people I know that could help me are the one I'm attempting to court and one of his soldiers who is currently stalking me and seems to think my struggles are an early Yule gift." The last part he said louder than normal to alert Rainin that he knew they were there.  _ How the Scoia’tael knew anything about us if Rainin is this obvious while spying, I'll never know.  _ He reasoned it was only obvious he was being followed because he was currently so high strung and anxious that he noticed things he normally wouldn't. 

The elf at the flower stand seemed to take pity on him. "Ignore them and tell me what you’re trying to say."

Roche turned to the approximate spot he thought Rainin was hiding in. "Can't you go report to him now and give me twenty minutes to do this without a witness?"

The feeling of being watched stopped after a whisper of " _ south of your camp, go past the river"  _ at his back told him he was alone for the time being. "Morning Glories," he said as soon as he was sure Rainin was far enough away. "Morning Glories and Blue Salvia if you can manage it."

The elf seemed to melt and her eyes widened like she was looking at an adorable kitten rather than a rough and ragged soldier. "I think I can manage that just fine."

Soon Roche found himself with several delicate looking blossoms and a ball of dread settling low in his stomach. He was really about to do this. It was either going to work out fantastically or his hopes were going to go down in flames. 

He just hoped that he was reading everything right and Iorveth really wasn't luring him into a trap with a false sense of security. He wasn’t used to feeling so off balance and out of sorts when it came to the Scoia’tael commander, but he was in unknown territory now. 

So all he had to do now was take the next step and hope he wasn't walking into an ambush. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you guys enjoyed the fluffy parts of this - it's gonna get a little angsty for a minute. Sorry, not sorry.


	6. The Rockrose and the Thistle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rockrose - strength, determination, and endurance; Thistle - bravery, devotion, strength, and determination.
> 
> Roche has to make a choice - neither option is ideal but only one will break his heart. Unfortunately, that's the only option he can choose, no matter how much it hurts.

Roche hadn’t made it more than a few paces away from the riverbank when the familiar feeling of an intense, thousand-yard stare that warmed his back and made the hair on his arms stand up. It was equal parts thrilling and unnerving. “How did you know I was coming?” he asked the deceptively empty forest. 

A low chuckle and the rustling of leaves were his only answer until Iorveth jumped from foliage and landed just a scant few inches in front of Roche. Only years of army training kept him from leaping back in surprise. He had known Iorveth was there, but he wasn’t expecting the wily commander to give away his position. 

Iorveth walked around Roche like a fox eyeballing a particular tasty-looking rabbit. Roche could only turn to follow him - instinct telling him to keep his eyes on a predator - even if the rest of him was willing to be prey to this particular predator (especially if he was looking at Roche like he wanted to  _ devour _ him). 

Roche took an involuntary step back as Iorveth stepped forward, and another, and another until Roche felt his back connect with a tree. He wanted to berate himself for falling into such an obvious trap, but he also couldn’t think of  _ why _ he should over his thundering pulse in his ears and the overwhelming presence of the elf effectively pinning him in place with only a look. “You only knew Rainin was following you earlier because they  _ let you _ know,” he answered with a small smirk that only intensified Roche’s feeling of being caught. 

The Scoia'tael commander leaned forward and caged Roche against the tree with a hand on either side of his shoulders. This closely, Roche could see the flecks of gold in Iorveth’s iris - green and gold like the first leaves in springtime. 

He licked his suddenly dry lips and noticed Iorveth trace the motion with unguarded hunger. The air around them was heavy like the moment before a lightning storm, full of the promise of  _ something _ on the horizon. 

“What's the matter, Vernon? Nothing to say?” Iorveth taunted, the smirk changing into a sly smile. 

Roche wanted to answer, wanted to say something witty to catch the elf off guard - to make him feel as unmoored as Roche felt. Instead, he could only shake his head and reach out with the hand not holding the small spray of flowers and trace the sharp contour of Iorveth’s cheekbone and jaw.  _ Beautiful _ , he couldn’t help but think.

“What?” 

He blinked slowly, his whole body moving at half speed like he was trapped in molasses. It took him longer than he would like to admit to realize that he had spoken aloud.  _ Well, in for a copper, in for a crown.  _ “I said ‘beautiful’. You’re fucking stunning,” he said with more confidence than he felt and continued to trace his fingers over the exposed half of Iorveth’s face. He ended his exploration at the small notch on his upper lip, the very edge of the scarring from the speartip that had taken Iorveth’s eye but not his life. 

In an instant, the very air was stolen from his lungs as Iorveth crowded him further against the tree with a searing kiss. 

Roche would later deny the way his legs gave out and the needy whine Iorveth tore from his lips, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. When Iorveth tried to pull away, Roche wrapped his arms around Iorveth’s neck and shoulders, keeping him exactly where Roche wanted him. 

Iorveth seemed to get the message. He didn’t immediately go back for another kiss and instead wrapped his hands around Roche’s thighs, giving him no option but to wrap his legs around Iorveth’s waist, trusting the elf’s superior strength to keep them both upright. 

Roche was usually never one to surrender control, but the weightless feeling of being held up and thoroughly ravaged by his once-enemy was intoxicating. He was blind to everything outside of the hot slide of Iorveth’s lips against his own, the bruising grip on his thighs, and the way they fit together like they were made for each other. Nothing mattered outside of the two of them. 

Nothing that was, until someone very pointedly cleared their throat behind them. 

The interruption was enough to make them break apart, but Iorveth very pointedly didn’t let go of Roche’s thighs that were still wrapped around his waist. “Fuck,” he gasped into the space between them. 

“Yes, it seems you were working to that, regardless of who else may be present.” 

Roche peered over Iorveth’s shoulder as the elf hid his face in the space between Roche’s neck and shoulder. Behind them, Saskia stood with her arms crossed over her chest and a judgemental eyebrow raised in their direction. “Be glad it was me that found you and not John Natalis.” 

At her words, Roche felt a cold lump of anxiety drop into his gut. While everything pointed to the dissolution of the Scoia’tael, nothing had officially been stated and if John Natalis had caught him wrapped like a limpet around the commander of said faction, he would probably find himself looking at a court-martial at best (at worst, he knew he would be hanged for treason). He felt Iorveth go completely still against him like he was thinking something very similar.

“I would recommend pulling yourselves together. Iorveth, I needed to discuss the role your men will play. And Roche, Natalis wants to speak to you. He wouldn’t share why, but he was making his way to your camp when we split up to look for you,” Saskia said, her tone serious even as her lips curled into a smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes to collect yourselves. Iorveth, you know where to find me.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, her long braid swinging across her back with every step. 

Slowly, they broke apart. Even with the looming threat of reprimand, Roche couldn’t stop the full-body shiver when Iorveth reached out and wrapped his slim fingers around Roche’s wrist. “Are these for me?” he asked, voice wrecked. 

Somehow he was still holding onto the small arrangement he had purchased off the vendor earlier. He had forgotten about them while he had been literally wrapped around their recipient. “Y-yeah,” he stuttered out, dizzy from the rush of emotions he could see on Iorveth’s face as his gaze shifted from the flowers to Roche’s face and back again. 

“Did you - are you -” Iorveth seemed to be at a loss.

“I was worried that you were messing with me, poking fun at me for when I was a child, but I wanted to believe it meant something,” he confessed, his heart hammering in his chest. 

Roche could feel the slight tremor of Iorveth’s fingers as he let go of Roche’s wrist and took the flowers and smiled down at them. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back,” Iorveth said in lieu of a real answer before he took off down the riverbed in the opposite direction Saskia had left in. 

He momentarily flashed back to the sinking feeling he had the last time Iorveth had said something similar to him when he had been a child. But Iorveth had returned that time, and something told him the same thing would happen this time. 

While Iorveth was gone, he took a moment to catch his breath and straighten out his gambeson so that it wasn’t as glaringly obvious that he had moments from clawing his way out of it. 

By the time he felt his heartbeat slow into a normal rhythm, Iorveth was back with two different flowers in his hand. "Stay strong,  _ Annwyl, _ " he whispered into the small space between them and tucked the flowers into the ties in Roche’s armor. 

With one last fleeting kiss, Iorveth took off after Saskia with the spray of flowers Roche chose for him tied up in his bandana. 

He shook the dazed feeling from his head as best he could and went back to the Stripes camp to speak with John Natalis. 

\----

He should have known that sooner or later something would happen to turn his courting plans on their side, but he wasn’t expecting it to hurt as much as it had. 

When he arrived back at camp Natalis was waiting for him but he wasn’t alone. Standing slightly behind Natalis as if they were overwhelmed by the Stripes was Anaïs. The excited greeting of "Uncle Roche!" from Foltest’s daughter wasn’t enough to quash down the rising feeling of doom in his gut, but he ignored it as best he could and accepted the hug from her all the same. 

"What's going on, Natalis?" He asked, trying to maintain an air of professionalism despite his gut feeling that he knew exactly what was about to happen.

"We need to move Anaïs out of Vergen today. She’s not safe with this many Scoia’tael so close," Natalis answered grim-faced. 

He felt his heart stop and break in an instant.  _ Was it all just a ruse? _ he thought, horrified. Questions and doubts swirled around his head at the implication. Had Iorveth been planning something? Had he been using Roche’s feelings to distract him? "Have you heard something? I was under the impression that the Scoia’tael were disbanding to stand as part of the dragonslayer's army."

Natalis raised an eyebrow at Roche as though he was speaking a different language. "Would you risk your king's child on the off-chance the squirrels will change everything and leave her alone? Even if they would, my scouts have reported that Nilfgaard is on the move again."

Without input from his brain, he reached up and pulled the flowers from his armor and felt something heavy settle in his gut. This, he knew, was a noose to hang himself with - he could either agree and doom the slow-building but intense relationship with Iorveth or he could deny it and in essence brand himself a traitor to Temeria. 

There was only one choice.

"Of course not, Natalis. What's our plan?" He asked, his heart breaking further as tiny pinpricks of pain shot through his palm from the prickly stem of the thistle. 

Natalis looked solemn again as he answered. "Pack up your camp. We leave tonight for Novigrad. For now, Anaïs will stay at the La Valette manor. Right now, the free city is the safest place from both the Scoia’tael and the Black Ones"

Roche felt a pang of sadness for Anaïs. She hadn't had time to grieve for her father or brother and had spent the last month secreted away from place to place without knowing what was going to happen from one day to the next. 

Natalis took Anaïs with him when he left to give the Stripes time to tear down their camp. Once they were far enough away, Roche turned to his team, his  _ family _ , and buried his heartbreak behind a mask. "Well, Ves, it seems you've signed yourself up for latrine duty from now until the next Conjunction. Everyone else, you heard Natalis, let's move."

Roche pointedly ignored the looks his Stripes were giving him and instead concentrated on packing away his equipment and his feelings. If he stopped, he would lose his fragile grip on his emotions and lose himself in all the what-ifs his mind could conjure up. 

Going through the familiar process of packing up wasn’t the distraction Roche hoped it would be. He still found himself wondering if Iorveth had been playing him for a fool the whole time. He replayed their every interaction to see if he had been blind to the signs; but even thinking over every tiny detail, he couldn’t pinpoint anything that would have indicated deception. It wasn’t enough to reassure him of Iorveth’s feelings, his words about Rainin coming back to him - _they_ let you _know_ \- making him wonder if Iorveth just hadn't let him see any deception. _Or_ , the dark voice in the back of his mind taunted, _you were so desperate for affection you were blind to what was really going on. Pathetic._

In the end, he decided in the grand scheme of things, neither his intentions nor Iorveth’s really made a difference. He would always put his duty and his country’s needs above his own. It was some small bit of common ground he and Iorveth could claim - they would do anything, make themselves into monsters, to fight for what they believed in.

By the time the sun began to set Roche and his Stripes had packed everything they needed and sold everything else off to the Quartermaster. Now that he had a moment of quiet he sat down and scratched out a short note.

It wasn’t necessary, he didn't owe anything to Iorveth and the elf probably didn't want it - but he had to do it. "I'll be back soon," he told Ves as he headed back to the riverbed to leave the note in a place he was sure Iorveth would see it and wouldn't get him hanged.

He took a dagger and dug the tip under the edge of his special forces insignia until he could hear the stitching give way. The same dagger pinned the farewell message and his insignia to the trunk of the tree where he and Iorveth had spent a large part of the afternoon tangled up against. It was fitting, he thought with a small frown before he turned away to begin the long trip to Novigrad.

_ Iorveth,  _

_ If things had been different, I wonder if we could have been so much more.  _

_ I don't know if you'll see this, or if you even care enough to read it, but I wanted you to know that it was real - for me, at least. But we are soldiers before we are our own people and I understand that. _

_ I’ve left one final gift for you. Something to complete your collection. You've defeated every special forces commander in the North. It's time you had proof of it. If anyone has earned the right to bring me down, it's you.  _

_ Take the Lilies and know you will have my heart too. _

_ Farewell, _

_ VR _

\----

Iorveth was up before the sun. While waking early wasn't unusual, the feeling of hope warming his chest was very much unusual. Absent was the usual bone-deep exhaustion and in its place was a sense of serenity. It wasn’t often he had anything to be hopeful about, but his people finding a place where they could live as equals (not quite the free elven state he had fought for, but a good alternative nonetheless), and the beginnings of a new relationship were enough to spark a flame of hope in his chest. 

As they had often since their second meeting, Iorveth found his thoughts drifting to his ex-rival. He hadn’t meant to get so carried away the day before, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it. 

He would have been content to continue their quiet courtship, but when Roche spoke to him, knew he was there without even seeing him…well, he couldn’t be blamed for rising to the challenge. Part of him relished in the opportunity to be the one to have the last word, to leave Roche speechless. And he would have left it with that, had it not been for the raw hunger he could see in Roche’s dark eyes. 

It wasn’t often ( _ ever _ , his mind helpfully corrected) that anyone looked at him like he was desirable after he had lost his good looks. And the way Roche has reverently traced his face had whispered  _ beautiful  _ at him like something had stolen his voice. Iorveth knew he was vain and weak; but the look on Roche’s face, the way he had allowed Iorveth to hold him up and devour him, made it feel like his weakness and vanity weren't character flaws. 

The memories left him feeling settled like he hadn’t in ages. It made him feel like throwing caution to the wind and showing his hand - he had kept his emotions and feelings locked away and now he wanted to let them out, positive that he wouldn't have to bear them alone.

Quietly, he slipped out of their camp and tried not to think about how reckless he was being. The only thing that stopped him from turning back to camp and burying his feelings was the fact that Roche would likely have no idea the significance of the gift he intended to find. 

It took longer than he would admit, long enough that he had to shoo no less than half a dozen of his Scoia'tael back to camp before he found what he was looking for. He consoled himself with the knowledge that the specific flower he was looking for was rare and he wasn’t likely to trip over a rosebush without a lot of luck.

When he finally found some, he hesitated in front of them and felt a deep sadness overtake him. While the idea of the Rose was about as romantic as possible, the truth was also painful in that truth. These weren’t surrounding a beautiful statue of lovers but the ruins of his people could still be seen in what was left of an archway - it looked like it could have been a garden or courtyard before time and war and strife had left it crumbling. “I’m trying,” he said to the ruins. “I’m trying to make this all stop - give us a place to build so we don’t lose everything else to ruin.” 

He prayed that the blood spilled here that nourished the blooms wouldn’t be a recurring feature in the new landscape he had led them to. Part of him hoped that he was going to cut one of the last remaining Roses and they wouldn’t have a place to bloom anymore. It was a fool's hope, he knew, but at his core, Iorveth was an idealist. A romantic and an idealist.

His feet led him back through the thick woods, around his Scoia'tael, and down to the river where he could get to a good place to move unseen to Roche’s tent and leave his gift. 

The closer he got to where the Stripes had set up their camp, the more he knew something was wrong. The most glaring clue was that it was too quiet. When he stepped into the clearing to find it completely empty, Iorveth felt something sour settle in his belly. 

Inadvertently, his grip on the rose in his hand tightened and the thorns he hadn’t bothered to cut away in his rush to get back to Roche were now digging into his palm - but he didn’t notice. He couldn’t feel anything past the hurt, confusion, and anxiety eating away at his insides. 

He turned back the way he had come to bring the rose to his tent before he went to Saskia - she could possibly have an idea of what happened. He would even deal with her teasing him about his feelings, just as long as she would tell him what happened.

But he didn’t get that far before he got his answer. 

Sunlight momentarily blinded him from where it gleamed against something metal. Iorveth stopped dead in his tracks and realized with a jolt that he was standing exactly where he had been the day before, but instead of the warm happiness he had felt yesterday, the sour feeling in his belly only grew. 

Iorveth slowly reached out towards the tree, the very same one he had used to finally get to his hands on Roche ( _and his_ _wonderful, powerful gods damned thighs,_ he couldn’t help but add in the safety of his mind), and reached for the dagger. With trembling fingers, he removed the dagger from the trunk and removed the folded piece of parchment with his name on it. 

A piece of heavy fabric fell to the ground between his feet when he opened the note. 

The note was short but no less painful for its lack of length. He didn’t notice the tear slip down his cheek, or how he dropped the Rose of Remembrance to grip the note with both hands as if holding it differently would change the words. He wasn’t aware of anything until a tentative voice called his name and a familiar hand at his elbow broke through the haze that had settled around him as he read and re-read the words in front of him. 

“Iorveth? Boss? What is it?” It was Rainin - but, of course, it was Rainin. No one else would be able to follow him without his knowledge. Vaguely, he wondered how long they had been following him. “Iorveth, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” 

He blinked slowly and turned towards his companion. “He’s gone. He’s gone and he thinks I don’t -” he stopped and handed the farewell note over to Rainin so he could leave it all on the bank of the river. He couldn’t bring himself to take the Rose, the note, or the insignia with him. It was a goodbye just as much as Roche’s words had been. He would leave his heart on the bank and hope it would wash away the agony cutting through his chest. 

Had he stayed, he would have seen the confusion on Rainin’s face, would have heard his name shouted at his back as he retreated, and would have seen the confusion transformation to grim determination. As he hadn’t, he wouldn’t know until later that Rainin had taken off after the Stripes. Under his own hurt, his heart went out to his young friend who had also been left behind by a human they had dared open their heart to. 

Iorveth hoped their story would turn out better than his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Annwyl - beloved (Welsh)


	7. Rose of Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Stripes escort Anais and John Natalis out of Vergen, the choices he's had to make weigh heavily on Roche's shoulders. Plagued with nightmares, Roche comes across a familiar face who is determined to know why he made the choice he did and to deliver a final message. 
> 
> But when all is said and done Roche can't help but wonder if he still has a chance.

_ Thirteen - _

_ Ves - _

_ Silas -  _

_ Shorty - _

_ Finch -  _

_ Fenn -  _

Another circuit through the small cluster of his unit.  _ Thirteen. Ves. Silas. Shorty. Finch. Fenn.  _ At one time there had been twenty of them, a few months ago there had been eleven, now there were just seven Blue Stripes left. Roche paced through them again, making sure he could see every one of them before he traded places with Natalis on watch duty. 

The movement helped little in the way of shaking off the last icy feeling in his chest his dream,  _ nightmare _ , had left him with - but seeing them hale and whole settled him more. 

“Trouble sleeping?” Natalis asked voice low as to not wake Anaïs or the Stripes who were still sleeping.

Roche nodded. “I’m always too late in my dreams. I’ve lost over half my men over the years and I  _ won’t  _ lose any more,” he muttered, not really talking to Natalis but not just talking to himself either. 

Natalis offered no words of reassurance, but rested a heavy hand on Roche’s shoulder and leveled him with a look that did little to ease the heavy feeling sitting in his gut - it was like Natalis could see down to his very soul and see how damaged and awful he really was. 

He watched the temporary regent of Temeria walk to his bedroll and settle down to sleep. Once he was alone again, Roche allowed himself to look at his hands and check for blood. He managed to curb the urge while Natalis was watching, but only just. He couldn’t let Natalis find out, he just _ couldn’t. _

Roche paced around the outside of the camp, keeping an eye out for anyone or anything that would set out to harm the last remaining beacons of light his country could cling to - John Natalis and Anaïs were more important than his nightmares, his guilt, or his anguish. 

Even though they were three days outside Vergen and he couldn’t see it, he turned to look back at where he knew Iorveth was. He knew, deep down, that Natalis was just being extra precautious and that he didn’t have any reason to trust that the Scoia’tael would lay down their arms against humans. It had taken him just a day to gather enough information from Natalis that there was no solid evidence that the Scoia’tael were planning anything, but that he couldn’t risk anything happening to Anaïs. 

That knowledge had settled the sour feeling in his gut but did little to ease the pain of loss that he couldn’t shake no matter how he tried to distract himself. It seemed that the farther away from Vergen they got, the worse his thoughts and nightmares got - the excitement of the back and forth between Iorveth and himself had done wonders to distract him from the horrors of what _almost_ _happened_ to his men. 

A rustling sound jolted him from his thoughts. He stopped and listened for the noise again, hardly daring to so much as breathe.  _ There! _ It sounded again, something moving through the trees - deliberately making noise, he noted. He slowly followed the noise until it stopped and Roche found himself close enough in the woods that he could still see the small fire they had risked to keep Anaïs warm and ward off wild animals, but far enough away that the underbrush and trees would muffle most sound. 

“Shit,” he cursed to himself when he realized he had walked into a very obvious trap. 

He didn’t get a single pace back towards camp to alert anyone else of possible danger before he felt something displace the air followed by the cold bite of steel against his throat. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you now,  _ dh’oine _ .”

Even with a razor-sharp knife held against the vulnerable skin of his throat, he couldn’t help but relax slightly when his brain registered the almost-familiar voice. Instead of answering, as he honestly couldn’t come up with a good reason, he decided to ask an admittedly stupid question “how long have you been following us?” 

He could feel the muscles in Rainin’s arm flex and the blade push just a bit harder against his throat. “We found your encampment empty the afternoon after you left. Now once again,  _ one good reason, dh’oine _ .” 

Maybe it was a true lack of self-preservation, but Roche couldn’t help but say “well, now I see why you and Ves get along so well.”

Rainin snarled and strong-armed Roche until he was facing the furious elf. He noticed the fury first as it was almost palpable in its strength, but once he looked past the anger, he saw the shimmer of tears making their bright blue eyes look almost otherworldly and the near-imperceptible tremor like it was taking everything the young elf had to keep control of their emotions. 

“ _ Why _ ?”

Roche sighed and shook his head. “Why what? Why did I break my own heart? Why did I choose duty over love? Let me tell you something, Rainin - I almost lost everyone I hold dear because I was angry and selfish and I couldn’t,  _ can’t _ , do that again. When given the choice between my own happiness and the future of my country, the lives of my  _ family _ , I will always set aside my feelings.” He cut himself off, panting heavily as if he had been running. He took a moment to catch his breath and get a better hold on his emotions. “So if you want a good reason not to kill me, I can’t really give you one other than it would probably hurt less than the pain and guilt and - and the fucking  _ agony _ of leaving behind what could have been something wonderful to protect everything else I hold dear.” 

He felt something let loose in his chest, like the iron bands around his heart weren’t quite so tight now that he was able to tell someone what he was feeling. The guilt and pain and anxiety were still very much present, but he felt like he had a modicum of control over the storm of emotions that had been building up since Geralt looked the other way and allowed him to enact vengeance on what they had almost been too late to stop. Even now, he could see them standing with their hands bound behind their backs and nooses around their necks, only moments away from hanging from the rafters. He could still hear Silas choke out a warning, could feel the cold pit of dread when he realized Ves wasn’t with the rest of them, could still the blood lust well up in his heart when he thought about how close he had been to being  _ too late _ . 

Something seemed to settle in Rainin too. Whether it was a good thing or not, Roche couldn’t tell, but the murderous look faded away as Rainin’s knife disappeared and was replaced just as quickly with a rose. “This was for you,” they said and handed the rose over. “You should have it even if you really don’t deserve it.” Rainin turned to walk away but took only a single step before they stopped and turned back around, an unreadable expression clouding their face. “I don’t know which would be worse - that Rose dying or staying just how it is now after everything.” 

“What?” Roche asked, feeling like he was missing something important. Rainin laughed harshly and didn’t answer. “Before you leave, you should go see Ves. I could go get her and let you two have a moment,” he offered, strangely desperate to get that look off Rainin’s face and the sound of that laughter out of his ears. 

Rainin grimaced. “I know where I stand with Ves. I’m - well, I’m too much for most people. I’d rather keep the good memories than ruin them all while she fumbles through the same excuses about why she won’t choose me while still trying to be considerate about my feelings. I’ve heard them for years.” 

He felt his heart break for the elf in front of him before he buried it under anger on Ves’s behalf. “So what? You’re going to be a coward?” Perhaps taunting someone who spent two days stalking them without anyone noticing their shadow wasn’t a smart thing to do, but he was confident enough that Rainin wouldn’t do anything to them (would have already done it, if they wanted to).

“Maybe you’re right. I’m not like Iorveth, I’m not brave enough to risk it all by completely revealing my feelings. I hide behind flirting - even when I mean what I’m saying, no one believes me to be genuine. And I accept that. After all, I did it to myself. But I’d rather be a coward than a cold-hearted monster who had everything handed to them and still chose duty over love.”

Roche watched as Rainin jumped and grabbed onto a tree branch and silently climbed out of sight. He turned to head back to camp and heard a whispered goodbye from behind him. “ _ Va fail, _ Vernon Roche. I hope you can live with the choices you’ve made.”

He didn’t respond; he couldn’t find the voice to say ‘me too.’ Instead, he turned back to camp to stand watch. 

As the sun began to rise, Roche took a closer look at the rose and wondered what Rainin had meant. Both the thistle and the other flower (a Rockrose, Shorty told him before he had to tuck it into his armor to keep them out of sight) had wilted and left behind the day before. Flowers wilted and died once they were cut - there was no way around it. But there was something just beyond his grasp, that told him there was more to the rose than just its unusual purple tint. 

No less confused than he had been before, Roche carefully tucked the Rose out of sight (it wouldn’t do for anyone to notice he was in possession of a strange flower he hadn’t had before they went to bed) and went about waking up the rest of the party. If they could continue at the same pace they would make it to the banks of the Pontar by mid-afternoon and hire a boat to take them to Novigrad. 

\----

In the small garden behind La Valette manor, Roche and the Stripes were presented with medals by Anaïs while John Natalis stood beside her. “For going above and beyond the call of duty time and time again, Temeria honors you,” Anaïs said, sounding so much like Foltest that Roche felt a surge of guilt rise up over his feelings for Iorveth regardless of the fact that he was part of the reason Anaïs lost her father. 

As Roche knelt to receive his medal, in a spur of the moment decision, he unbuckled the belt that kept his Special Forces dagger secure around his hips. “Your father gave me this when he promoted me. I want you to have it now,” he said. The grim determination on such a young face nearly broke his heart, but when she nodded and promised him she was going to learn to defend herself so she’d never be helpless again, he knew he made the right decision. 

The baroness led her daughter into the manor without so much as a backward glance, not that he had expected any different. Mary Louisa had never been more than cordial to him or the Stripes (too rough and low born for her, he figured). 

“Now,” Natalis said, gaining their attention again, “I have a lot of work to do but I’d like to take a moment and formally grant you all an Honorable Discharge. One day Anaïs or myself may need you again, but for now, it may be best if you all lay low and keep your noses out of any more trouble.” Roche felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as his heart skipped a beat at Natalis’s warning. 

Without thinking about it, his hand went to the hilt of his sword, ready to defend the rest of the Stripes if the need would soon arise. “At ease, Roche,” Natalis said and led him a few paces away from his team. “Look, I won’t pretend I know everything that happened before the summit at Loc Muinne, but I know  _ enough _ . I want you all out of the city before word reaches this far about Henselt’s assassination. If you want to keep the rest of your team alive, you need to stay away. It’s the only way I can assure your safety, am I understood, Roche?”

“Understood, sir,” he managed to respond around the lump of anxiety threatening to close his throat. He couldn’t think of anything except  _ How does he know? Who else knows? _ and the fear for his men that came with his thoughts. They had almost paid for his part in a conspiracy they knew nothing about, he couldn’t bear the thought that they could still lose their lives because of him. 

Natalis left with a final nod and a farewell to the rest of Stripes but Roche was only vaguely aware of it. The temporary Regent’s parting words had left him feeling unmoored and betrayed. He had chosen duty over love, knowing Temeria will always need him and now he didn’t even have that. Yes, there was the chance of being called back to service in the future, but in the meantime, they had to leave, split up, and stay out of sight. He chose Temeria over Iorveth and that choice cost him everything: he lost Iorveth, the Stripes were disbanded, and Temeria cast him aside once he was no longer needed. 

A heavy silence descended over the gardens as a servant came out with a stack of plain traveling clothes for them and instructions to leave their armor with the laundress. 

“Well boss,” Fenn said once everyone was dressed again, “where to now?”

Roche couldn’t help huffing out a laugh and running a hand through his hair that was now exposed as he left the chaperon with the rest of his uniform. “Whatever you want, Fenn. We’re  _ retired _ now, didn’t you hear?”

Fenn scoffed and turned a judging look his way. “Roche, I joined the army to keep myself off the streets. It was just a means to an end. But you? You picked all of us and built us a real team, a real  _ family _ . My duty to Temeria is over, but I don’t follow you out of a sense of duty. I’d gladly lay down my life for my country, but I will fight tooth and nail to live so I can stay with this family you gave me.”

Roche was at a loss for words when the rest of the Stripes chimed in to agree with Fenn. It did a lot to heal the fissure of loss and loneliness in his chest to hear them refuse to leave him and each other. 

While he struggled to find the words to express what their faith in him meant, his team wasn’t nearly as silent. They filed out of the garden of La Valette manor and kept to the side streets, obviously all knowing of their destination without bothering to let him know. As they passed through the gates and crossed the bridge that led to Farcorners, Thirteen took his turn to speak. 

“I've kept my mouth shut for weeks because I don’t trust Natalis and didn’t want to bring it up around him, but now that he’s gone, what are we gonna do about that elf of yours, boss?”

Roche was touched but the question brought another stab of hurt to his chest. He knew what he and Iorveth had was too new and too fragile to withstand what he did. "It’s over,” he said, voice heavy and sad. “I did what I had to do and I'm going to have to live with it."

“Not true,” Shorty piped up and pointed at the rose Roche had carefully tucked into the inlays of his scabbard after giving up his uniform. Roche was confused and from the looks on the rest of their faces, he wasn’t the only one. Shorty sighed heavily and continued. “I thought you knew, boss. That’s not just any regular flower. I wasn’t sure at first, but think about it, we’ve been gone for weeks. There’s no way a regular rose is going to last more than a few days once it’s cut.”

Roche couldn’t help but reach for the rose. “I’m sure you have a point, Shorty. Why don’t you just get to it and spare us all the suspense?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the rose that still looked exactly the same as when Rainin gave it to him.

Shorty grumbled something about how they were all helpless and that he understood why he was the only one with a stable relationship. “Doesn’t anyone else get it? That’s a Rose of Remembrance.” Shorty waved his hands around like he was waiting for them to react. When no one said a word, his shoulders sagged, obviously disappointed in all of them. “Not a romantic bone in your bodies, the lot of you. The story goes that if you give a Rose of Remembrance to someone you love, it’ll live forever.” 

Shorty’s words made something in Roche’s gut swoop and his heart clench painfully. Rainin’s words made sense to him now. If the Rose died, it meant Iorveth didn’t love him or fell out of love with him; but with it still being alive despite Roche’s choice, it meant Iorveth still loved him -  _ actually loved him _ . 

He didn’t know what to do with the knowledge. Part of his was glad, ecstatic even, that he may still have a chance. The rest of him, on the other hand, felt nothing but guilt and self-hatred. How could Iorveth love him at all, let alone after being left behind? Whatever it meant, he had to find out. “Well, I guess I’m going back to Vergen. You’re all welcome to follow, but you don’t have to.” 

“You’re stuck with us, Roche,” Finch said, elbowing him in the ribs as Ves scrubbed her knuckles over his head. 

The group started on their trek again and Roche contented himself with following them, sure they had some kind of half-cocked plan which was more than he could say for his own ideas. 

Their destination turned out to be a nondescript house at the edge of Farcorners where they were greeted by a woman wearing a hooded cloak despite being indoors. “I’ve been expecting you.” 

Roche wondered exactly who his team was haggling with, but his knowledge of magic users was very limited, and he couldn’t bring himself to actually care at this point. He couldn’t bring himself to think much beyond the fact that he hadn’t lost everything - the Stripes were sticking together, and Iorveth still loved him if Shorty was to be believed. 

Still in a slight daze, but trusting his Stripes not to steer him wrong, he followed them through a glowing portal that led them to their old campsite. 

It looked much the same as when they left it weeks ago, though Roche didn’t know why he thought it would have changed. It wasn’t as if the whole world had changed - just his. It was strange, he thought, he felt so different than he had when he’d taken his last look at the clearing they had claimed for their campsite, he expected everything to reflect the rapid change in emotions he had gone through in the last day (hell, the last several weeks, if he was completely honest with himself). 

Looking at the empty clearing again made him think of something else too. “Did uh, did anyone think far enough ahead to figure out what we’re supposed to do about living arrangements?” he asked, feeling sheepish and a little stupid. 

He felt a bit less stupid when the rest of the Stripes looked to each other like they expected someone else to have come up with everything before they jumped to action. “On it, boss,” Thirteen said, jogging off in the general direction of Vergen proper. 

“Someone go with him,” Roche groaned, knowing if he didn’t send someone, they’d probably all find themselves banned from all of Aedirn by nightfall. “We’ll meet back here at dark!” he called out before any of the Stripes could get too far away.

Before they all split up, Roche managed to get Ves’s attention and have her hang back. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do with your own elf?” he asked, remembering vividly the broken resignation on Rainin’s face when they spoke about being ‘too much’ like they were broken and unloveable. 

Ves looks as uncertain as he was sure he did. “I’m pretty sure I lost my chance, boss. I didn’t really know for sure if Rainin was actually flirting with me until right before we left.” Ves unsheathed a stylized dagger he had never seen her with before. “It’s a daffodil. They mean regard and unequaled love. But they also mean unrequited love. I'm pretty sure this was Rainin letting me know how they felt and assuming that their feelings were one-sided."

“And are they one-sided?” Roche asked, taking in the small frown on her face and the resigned slump in Ves’s shoulders. 

Ves looked lost in a way Roche had never seen his lieutenant look, even when he found her being held prisoner in a Scoia’tael camp when she was sixteen. “I wish I could’ve had time to figure that out. I mean, it’s not like I’ve had anyone besides you guys look at me like I’m more than - more than just a good soldier, or a nice pair of tits.” 

Part of Roche could empathize with her - he had never been anything other than a fatherless whoreson and Foltest’s personal attack dog. Iorveth never made him feel like either, it was part of where his attraction for his old rival came from. “I think they’d like to hear that. For someone who could probably charm a rock, Rainin has a remarkable lack of self-worth. They cornered me not long after we left and threatened to cut my throat for leaving, but didn’t seem to think that their own feelings or wants mattered.”

Ves looked pained before she straightened her shoulders and turned to march away. “I’m going to find my elf, I suggest you do the same,” she called over her shoulder. 

Roche watched her look up into the foliage and smiled. “Good luck, Little Sister,” he called to her back and laughed when she raised her hand in a single-finger salute without looking back at him. 

_ If I were a wily Squirrel, where would I hide? _ he asked himself before he started off in the general direction of where he thought the Scoia’tael camp had been. 

By the time he walked up and down through the forest he had found plenty of real squirrels but none with a red bandana and a sly smile. The sun was almost completely set when he decided to give up for the night. If Iorveth didn’t want to be found, Roche knew he’d never find him. 

Tomorrow he’d try to speak with Saskia, offer her his services, and ask if she knew where he was likely to find Iorveth. 

With a heavy heart, he removed the Rose from its resting place in the inlays of his scabbard and smiled at the still-perfect bloom. It gave him hope that even if Iorveth was purposely avoiding him, he still had Iorveth’s love - even if he had to work to gain his trust. 

Exhaustion, both physically and mentally, started to pull at him, and he found himself hoping Thirteen and Silas had managed to find somewhere they could stay or buy their things back from the Quartermaster. It was this exhaustion that was to blame for his lack of awareness of his surroundings and why he ended up walking face-first into someone else. 

Roche shook the stars from his eyes and squinted into the growing darkness. A small gasp escaped when he was able to recognize the face that was only inches from his own. “Iorveth.” It was no more than a whisper, but he could tell the elf heard him all the same.

Iorveth looked tired, more so than usual, but it didn’t give him the same hunted look of someone who was exhausted from constantly having to watch his back. He was wearing the same gambeson but Roche could tell he wasn’t wearing the heavy chainmail like before - it made him look smaller and more delicate, but no less deadly than before. “Vernon?” he asked like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

Iorveth fumbled with the ties on his gambeson at the same time Roche thought to check the condition of his Rose since he had been holding it when they crashed into each other. 

When he looked up, Iorveth had his gambeson opened. He took a moment to let his eyes travel over the lean lines of Iorveth’s torso and down his long, long legs before he found what Iorveth meant for him to see. There, on the inside of padded green material, his Special Forces insignia was sewn to the material that would rest over Iorveth’s heart. 

He couldn’t help but reach out, needing to touch to make sure his eyes weren’t betraying him. In doing so, he brought the Rose up to his eyeline again and couldn’t help but ask “Do you still -” 

“Did you mean it?” Iorveth asked at the same time, voice barely over a whisper as if he couldn’t bear to hear the answer but needed to ask all the same.

“Yes,” they answered together. 

Roche had only a moment to revel in his good luck before Iorveth’s fist struck him across the cheek. He didn’t get the chance to register the shock or the pain before Iorveth hauled him close by the collar of his tunic and shoved him back against the nearest surface - another tree, he noted with a giddy laugh before Iorveth stole the very air from his lungs with a searing kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So unless these dummies decide to jump completely off script, this is the penultimate chapter. Just one to go, folks. Now, depending on how you guys feel, I may do a little side story about the reunion between Rainin and Ves. I thought about putting that in here too as I did before, but at this point, they deserve their own side-fic (and I don't know how to include it in here without throwing the flow of the last chapters all off-kilter).


End file.
